


our hearts turned gold

by persephonea



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Frottage, Gentle Sex, Husbands, Intimacy, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 11:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17786318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephonea/pseuds/persephonea
Summary: Hank closes in and Connor opens his mouth and licks into him, his hands swiftly working on Hank’s button-up to get to the warm skin underneath. Connor lifts up the undershirt and splays his fingers on the swell of Hank’s belly. Hank’s palms move over his thighs to knead the supple flesh of Connor’s cheeks and then press hard, pushing Connor’s pelvis forward, making him grind into Hank.Connor sighs into Hank’s mouth. “I missed you.”“Missed you too, sweetheart.” Hank presses again and guides him upward and down. Connor moans softly. “All those pretty noises you make.”--Hank and Connor haven't been able to spend much time together these past few weeks. They finally have an evening off to make up for it.





	our hearts turned gold

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Valentine's gift for you, all lovely people of Twitter Jericho ❤

Connor gets home late. He had been assigned a new case a couple of weeks back, separate from Hank, since it involved a Jericho member and Hank had his hands full already with other android cases. The result concerning their domestic routine has been rather unfortunate - they spent minimum time together, often missing each other at home due to conflicting schedules, only colliding in bed, with Hank fast asleep shortly afterward.

The workload has taken its toll on Connor too - not in a way it would affect a human, his body didn’t necessarily require rest or stasis mode, but he still finds himself feeling tired, for the lack of a better word. 

His processors need recalibration, and there’s a certain degree of emotional strain which has been manifesting more frequently since his deviation. That, and he’s been missing Hank. Some days Connor’s extremely aware of the proverbial clock ticking and of the limited human time they have left. He pushes the thought into the background, compartmentalizes it, refocuses his attention. It still sits heavy, and frustration resurfaces when he’s been away for too long.

Connor registers clinking sounds coming from the kitchen. Thirium pump excitedly thrumming, his HUD displays: _Lieutenant Hank Anderson. Status: Husband._ He treads lightly, following the noise. At the end of the hallway, he stops to the sight of Hank standing next to the kitchen cabinets, chopping bell peppers and onions. The pot with boiling pasta bubbles on the stove. Sumo occasionally snores on the dog bed in the corner, an empty bowl next to him. 

Hank stands with his back turned to Connor, he hasn’t yet noticed Connor’s presence. Connor takes in Hank’s broad back, muscles shifting underneath the thin cotton shirt and in this moment he feels grounded. There can be no doubt about the nature of the inexplicably warm phantom feeling spreading and wrapping around his chassis. Connor loves, and it fills him completely and lifts him up.

He crosses the distance in three steps and wraps his arms around Hank from behind. Hank startles a little but quickly relaxes into it and hums softly in lieu of a greeting. Connor buries his face into the dip of Hank’s nape and inhales. The scent breaks down into chemical components which are all essentially labeled as Hank. The familiarity makes Connor smile and sigh contentedly. 

Hank puts down the knife and caresses Connor’s arms, comforting. “Long day?”

“Long time away from you.”

Hank’s temperature rises slightly and Connor can only imagine the faint blush creeping up on his cheeks. Even after all these years. Hank turns his head to plant a chaste kiss to the corner of Connor’s mouth.  “Same here. These hours are one lousy fuckery.”

“You didn’t tell me you were going to be home early.”

“Yeah, well.” Hank scratches his beard distractedly. “Wanted it to be a surprise. Thought we were long overdue for a date night.”

Hank pulls at Connor’s arm and spins him so he has Connor trapped in his arms. His blue eyes are bright and crow’s feet more pronounced in amusement. “Keep the magic alive and all that jazz.”

Hank leans in and kisses Connor, deep and slow, momentarily overloading Connor’s processing power with the flood of data. Connor never grows tired of his warm mouth, Hank’s constantly in a state of change and although familiar, he is always new. It is hunger, if he ever felt it.

Hank pulls away and Connor follows, but Hank presses a finger to his mouth, holding him at a distance.

“Help me finish up and we’ll set up in the living room?”

“Alright, I’ll strain the pasta.”

Before Hank moves away, he opens his mouth and sucks the finger in, eyes not leaving Hank’s face. He hears him draw a deep breath. Hank’s heartbeat elevates and Connor feels satisfaction that comes with successful completion of a task.

He lets Hank go and puts on a chipper tone that he associates with the concept of teasing. “I approve of your choice of vegetable-based sauce. All that for me?”

“Brat. You wouldn’t let me get away with anything else.”

Connor smiles gleefully. He doesn’t eat but he has very strong opinions about Hank’s dietary habits. He also likes watching Hank enjoying food so the fact that Hank made it a part of their date with the nutrient aspect in mind is sweetly thoughtful.

Connor moves to take care of the pasta and Hank throws all the ingredients in the pan and lets it simmer while he disappears into the living room to set the table. In a few minutes, they are done, accustomed to working in each other’s space efficiently and with ease. It still excites Connor - the close proximity and opportunity for casual touches, feeling the warm solid body move next to him, a reminder of being alive.

Hank takes a plate in one hand and Connor’s hand in another and navigates them to the couch. There’s muted, unobtrusive music playing in the background. Connor’s LED spins as he analyzes the scene in front of him.

“You bought flowers.”

“I was worried it’d be overkill.” Hank shrugs and sets the plate down, pulling Connor on the couch with him.

It’s a bouquet of gladioli as a centerpiece, deep blue bleeding into purple. Connor admires delicate petals, rising assured and prideful, stem refusing to bend under the weight of calyces. “I like them.”

“Yeah? They kinda reminded me of you, I don’t know.”

Connor tucks into Hank’s side while Hank eats his dinner and puts a hand on his belly, enjoying the soft rise and fall and drumming of his heartbeat. Connor knows himself to his best capacity and realizes even before he broke free of his programming, he had tendencies to vanity and pridefulness. Now he’s Icarus, giddy with his pride, letting it soar to the sun. He looks to his hand, splayed on Hank’s stomach, where the thin golden band on his finger catches diffused light. His pseudo-neural connections set ablaze with the pride of calling this man his.

“Damn, did I miss a home-cooked meal.” Hank burps for good measure.

“I’m near closing this case. By next week, dinners are back on.” Connor takes the plate from him and in one smooth motion slips into Hank’s lap, knees encasing his hips.

“Can’t wait to see more of you around here.” Hank’s big hands settle on Connor’s thighs and his systems preen.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing more of you _right now_.”

Hank laughs, low and deep and the anticipation sets along Connor’s seams, exciting pleasure pooling in pressure points. “Can’t say no to that either.”

Hank closes in and Connor opens his mouth and licks into him, his hands swiftly working on Hank’s button-up to get to the warm skin underneath. Connor lifts up the undershirt and splays his fingers on the swell of Hank’s belly. Hank’s palms move over his thighs to knead the supple flesh of Connor’s cheeks and then press hard, pushing Connor’s pelvis forward, making him grind into Hank.

Connor sighs into Hank’s mouth. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” Hank presses again and guides him upward and down. Connor moans softly. “All those pretty noises you make.”

Connor loops his arms around Hank’s neck and latches his mouth on to the place where he can taste Hank’s quickened pulse. His sensors get thrown into a whirl, transcribing Hank, Hank, Hank.

Hank helps him move and Connor starts to roll his hips into Hank’s bare belly. He could preconstruct a more intricate scenario but he hasn’t been able to touch his husband properly in weeks and the immediate objective to  _feel close to Hank_ is taking over all his other functions.

Hank doesn’t seem to mind at all. He sneaks one arm to the front of Connor’s pants and undoes them.

“Let’s get these out of the way.”

Hank pulls Connor’s quickly filling cock out and, without breaking eye contact, brings a hand to his mouth and licks his palm. Every connection in Connor sparks. Hank strokes him languidly and it takes only a few moments until Connor starts to bead precum at the tip and to shiver in Hank’s arms.

Hank swipes his thumb over Connor’s head, making him gasp and buck into it.

“Hey, baby, come and get me.” Hank wraps his strong arms around Connor’s waist and pulls him even closer, squashing Connor’s cock between them, trapping it against Hank’s pliable bulk. The pressure overlapping with the velvety texture makes Connor unable to concentrate efficiently. He can’t help but let his motoric controls override any other foreground processes.

Connor hooks his chin over Hank’s shoulder and buries his face into Hank’s hair there. He finds a rhythm and with Hank holding him close he thrusts up into the soft flesh, rubbing himself off on it. Soon he pants to keep the cooling system running and leaks precum all over Hank’s belly. The slide becomes easier.

Hank moves one hand into Connor’s pants and presses a single finger pad to the tight ring of synthetic muscles. Connor whines and arcs his back.

“Hank.”

“That’s it, honey.” Hank kisses along the line of Connor’s shoulder, open-mouthed, his beard sending pleasurable sensations to Connor’s response center. Hank’s finger circles Connor’s opening, stroking it gently.

Heat accumulates behind Connor’s thirium pump, everything’s heightened and Connor’s individual stream of consciousness has gotten lost somewhere in the lines of his code. Pleasure envelops him. He ruts against Hank, swimming in his high, his cock sliding along in short jerky movements, the drag of it so delicious.

Hank finds Connor’s mouth and gives him the exact stimuli he needs. Something tugs at his very core and it all comes rushing in, a tide crashing. His whole body lights up and it feels like too much, too good at once and for a few milliseconds there’s a short lag in his system and he can’t move. When he comes to, he realizes he’s trembling, involuntary little tremors caused by the overload.

He rests all of his heavy weight on Hank, going boneless in his embrace. Hank’s hand is soothing, rubbing up and down the knobs of his reinforced spine.

“God, that was good. You look so -” Hank cradles the back of Connor’s head and turns him to press a kiss to his brow. “Beautiful.”

As he shifts Connor in his arms and stops supporting him from behind, Connor slides down. An electric current runs through him at the sound that comes out from Hank’s mouth. He can feel Hank under him, the bulge in Hank’s pants tenting the fabric, rubbing against Connor’s spent cock and balls and Connor’s salivating response activates immediately. His objective quickly switches gears. He wants him in his mouth.

He scrambles to get on his knees when Hank puts his hands on his hips to stop him. Hank stares at him, lips parted and breathing heavy.

Connor raises his brows questioningly and puts a hand on Hank’s belly, caressing it lovingly, smearing the come even more. He always liked seeing Hank marked like this, concrete evidence Connor can process and save to the memory. “I’d really like to suck you off now.”

“Fuck. Hold it for a sec, cowboy.” He takes Connor’s hand and licks the fingers clean, holding his gaze while Connor’s mind comes up blank. Hank’s tongue circles the wedding band on his ring finger and the lines around his eyes soften. Connor feels warmth fondly curl up at the base of his spine.

Hank kisses Connor’s knuckles, lips lingering on the warmed up metal. “I was thinking... why don’t we continue this in the bedroom. You can do _that_ ,” he looks at his bulge, straining between them, “and you could also put this to use again.” He cups Connor’s soft cock with his large hand, making Connor draw in a breath he doesn’t need.

Hank’s eyes are clear and his expression open.

“Are you suggesting you want me to penetrate you?”

Hank grins, big and wide, and squeezes Connor in his hand. “What can I say, guess I’m in a mood.”

He moves to stand up, suddenly, sweeping a hand under Connor’s knees. In one very smooth motion, pretending his back didn’t just crack horribly, Hank picks Connor up bridal style.

Connor yelps and hooks his arms around Hank’s neck. Hank’s smiling down at him, his voice low as he mutters, “Just wanna feel close to you.”

Connor cards his hand through Hank’s hair, pushing it back so he can see his husband’s handsome face clearly. He recognizes what his systems try to grapple as a very human emotion, feeling full and yet wanting more. The conflict results in a quite simple binary equation. He will always want everything Hank decides to give him.

“Lead the way then.”

**Author's Note:**

> give it up for my beta, [one lovely bee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeepGrandCherokeeper/) aka [@beepgrandchero](https://twitter.com/beepgrandchero)
> 
> i’m on [twitter](https://twitter.com/beethkay) where i mostly hankcon  
> if you're so inclined, you can leave kudos or comments, this ao3 user will immensely appreciate it


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